


Deer Dance

by Diablogarbage



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Multi, but its ok because we love him and hes sexy, havik is so fun to write, he's just a little creacher, implied shao x shang in the past, past toxic relationship, shang tsung is actually a fucking dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diablogarbage/pseuds/Diablogarbage
Summary: An AU where Shang Tsung becomes Emperor of Outworld. Written from both a third person POV and Shang's own POV (in the form of notes, implied to be written after he's become emperor, reflecting on the past), this details his journey from sometime long before the modern mortal kombat tournament, up to Shang's assassination of Shao Kahn.
Relationships: Havik/Shang Tsung, Quan Chi/Shang Tsung
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

The Outworld Palace. Such a regal sight, one would think. An impassible, impenetrable fortress looming over the dusty desert horizons of Outworld. It's the center of the capital of Outworld; the Hyras Province; the sandy jewel of the west. Towns, populated primarily by riches and nobles, dot the land surrounding the palace, and further to the west is the marketplace--a colourful bazaar of exotic trades and merchandise. From there on, exiting the inner circle of towns, the place is less populated; mostly inhabited sparcely by the poor and homeless, their houses (if they could even be called such) poorly constructed, hardened clay molded into tiny huts just barely able to fit five people. The homeless cower under any shelter they can, their sunbaked bodies often seen huddled together under tiny, dilapidated tarps for shade, to escape the scorching 15 hour sun.  
Such was life in Outworld. Such is. To those rare few allowed within the fortress walls, they'd call it Heaven, or whatever other variation of a plesant afterlife they might believe. Elegant and lavish, the palace was certainly different than the town. Covering nearly what would likely amount to two Earthrealm square miles, the palace was a haven for those few allowed in the walls, no matter how fleeting their visit was.  
But not to those living within. To those who live within the walls, the palace held much darker tales to tell than the folk stories of glory in battle and the honest conquering of lands. To those who live within, they would know the true tales. The needless blood shed for no good reasons, the murder of innocents. The capture and enslavement of thousands. The genocide of entire species.  
But those stories aren't what the public knew. Although they feared Shao Kahn, they admired him as well and respected him for the stories they thought they knew, and thr Kahn, damn him, kept up that act well. None of those living within the palace walls dared to speak out against him--to spread the truth.  
Until now.  
You, dear reader, are going to go on a journey within these pages. You will learn many things you had not known, and some you'd wish you had not known at all. I will not gloss over any details, nor will I waste the effort to sugar coat the harsh realities of the Outworld rule under the former emperor, Shao Kahn. But know this, reader; under my rule, you are in good hands. As the successor of Shao Kahn and the new ruler of the throne, I, Shang Tsung, vow to undo all the mess which Shao Kahn created, and lead Outworld to prosper in all the glory I know it is destined for.

\- 尚宗。


	2. Chapter I: Dinner with a Tyrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shang almost misses dinner and Sheeva almost kicks his ass for it, he flirts with the servers and everyone's having a good time. Until, suddenly: Shao Kahn.

The gardens of the palace are, undoubtedly, immaculate. Breathtaking in sight, one cannot help but simply be drawn to sit amidst the flowers and relax. Shang Tsung is no exception; although his reason for visiting is more purposeful than simply falling victim to the garden's seductive call.   
"I wish I'd have known how big you'd get," the sorcerer murmurs to the dragon within the water, "else I'd have chosen any other spot but this to raise you."  
The dragon simply lolls its tongue out of its maw and wags its fishlike tail as Shang gently scratches its chin. This causes Shang to chuckle somewhat, aiming a glance back at the balcony behind him leading into a room of the palace; his personal quarters.   
"You and Ramaara both, Rakatul. You're massive. And Ramaraa's got a clutch of eggs on the way, doesn't she..." For a moment he pauses in his movements and sighs, and the dragon whines, headbutting his arm gently. Snapping out of his own thoughts, Shang looks up at the sky before frowning. "I've gotta head out, Rakatul. Dinner's in a bit, and Sheeva'll kill me if I miss it again."   
He stands, and brushes off his clothes, watching Rakatul disappear again into the water. He breathes in a good lungful of the fragrant but, frankly, dry air, and turns on his heel to head inside. Why Onaga or whatever Emperor before him chose the desert of all places to build his palace is beyond Shang.   
The inside of the palace is vaguely cooler than outdoors--not that Shang really cares--and its got a slight breeze, carrying with it the smell of stew from the dining hall.   
"Must be some more of that celery and poultry stew. Or as they call it, 'framboch delight.'" Shang scoffs to himself as he rounds a corner and begins to ascend a stairwell. "As if it isn't the exact same thing the poor make for their families. It's damn good, but of course they can't let the royalty know that they're eating exactly what the poor and homeless do."  
With a roll of his eyes, Shang turns to a door on the left of the hallway; adorned with a gold and red tapestry depicting a Chinese dragon. Home sweet home--as sweet as it could be, anyway. He pushes open the door with his foot and lets it swing shut behind him, greeting the cat that sits perched on a desk to the left of the door.  
"Hello, little one. Dinner's soon, I'll bring you all back some." At that same moment, a long, scaly four legged creature comes crashing down from a shelf, landing in a heap on the ground before promptly jumping up and curling about Shang's leg, making excited and happy squeaking noises. Shang gently removes the dragon from his leg, and places it next to the cat, petting its head.  
"You're excited to see me, I see."  
Moving then, he stands in front of the lavish full length mirror to the side of his bed, framed by curling ornate Chinese dragons.   
"Perfect. Not too formal, but just formal enough to pass."  
And with that, he begins to turn back to the door, before a small "ah!" leaves his mouth and he turns back to the mirror, scrutinizing his appearance.  
"Naval piercing, hmm... I don't think anyone should notice, but if Shao Kahn is there.... Ah, it's a risk I'm willing to take; the bastard's probably 'too good' to eat with us lot. Again."  
With that, he turns and exits the room.

Shang's pace is brisk but relaxed as he strides down the hallway. However, when he turns to enter the dining hall, an impressive, four armed figure bars his path.  
"You made it!" The figure exclaims, clapping Shang heartily on the shoulder. Shang grins and looks up at the shokan woman, chuckling. "Knew you'd kill me if I didn't show, Sheeva."  
"Damn right I would!" Sheeva laughs, slinging an arm about Shang's shoulders. "Well, come on then. They're having more of that stew tonight." With that, the pair walk into the dining hall.  
Already there's plenty of people chowing down, and Shang spots several friendly faces--Baraka, Reptile, Kintaro, even Prince Goro among them. He follows Sheeva as she removes her arm from his shoulders and walks to the food selection. Indeed, there is stew, a few Edenian waiters ladling it out. Sheeva passes through the line and gets her bowl, and Shang follows, giving the last waiter a flirtatious smirk and wink with a bite of the lip, chuckling to himself when he sees his face redden. Then he's going to the seafood bar, using the tongs to lift a vaguely squid-like creature onto his tray, and then some sushi too. The soup's filling, so he doesn't need much else, but he can't ever pass up on some sushi or Outworld calamari.  
Sheeva waves him over from her place next to Kintaro, and Shang ambles over, taking the seat between Sheeva and Goro. Across from him sits another shokan guard he isn't familiar with, and Reptile next to him and another open spot. It's a somewhat comical sight to see two beings such as Shang and Reptile squeezed in between such massive, regal beings like the shokan, but Shang's quite familiar and comfortable with them.  
"You know, this stew is the same thing the poor make," Shang comments before gulping down a mouthful of the delicious stuff. Beside him, Goro nods with a faint snort. "Oh, yes. And most likely they tortured the recipe out of one of them."  
"That wouldn't be surprising," The shokan guard across from Shang agrees somberly. Shang nods in response, mouth full at the moment. He swallows, then speaks again in a more lighthearted tone.  
"Or maybe they just stole it. Don't be thieves, they tell the poor. Why? Because we're already doing that!"  
Those assembled at the table all share a laugh, before the noise of a door slamming into the wall silences the entire hall, all eyes fixed on the door.  
Shang turns to look too, and sees what's caused such a silence: Shao Kahn.  
The Emperor strides to the stew bar, and the waiters seem to cower as they ladle him out a generous serving. The whole room is silent enough one could hear a pin drop, and when Shao Kahn takes his seat at the head of the massive table in the center of the room, everyone seems to hold a collective, tense breath. In the few times the Emperor would dine with them, if the food was not to his taste he'd fly into a rage.  
As Shao Kahn tastes the stew, Shang's already bracing himself to flinch at an outburst of rage, but instead, rather, the Emperor seems pleased by the stew, simply giving a single nod.   
The entire room seems to let out a collective, silent sigh of relief, but no one dares to speak again. After some time of the eerie silence, the Emperor finally speaks.  
"It is not often I dine in the presence of you fools," He begins, and Shang rolls his eyes to himself.   
"But," the Emperor continues, "as you all know, the festival of the accursed Dragon King begins come tommorrow's nightfall. That in mind, I simply wished to remind you all of who your true Emperor is. Am I understood?"  
The hall erupts in a flurry of nervous agreement and acknowledgments, and Shao Kahn chuckles darkly.  
"Very good. You may all resume, now."  
Although conversation starts up again, its hushed now, and Shang leans in slightly, a frown on his face.  
"He's so conceited. Why does he think anyone would view Onaga as Emperor? He's been dead for at least ten thousand years!"   
Sheeva shrugs. "Beats me. He's a control freak."  
"Isn't that the truth," Shang mutters. He finishes his stew, and then stabs a utensil into the calimari, lifting it then biting a tentacle off. It's more chewy than Earthrealm calimari, but he likes it. The group falls quiet now, each picking at their own food as the tense atmosphere of the dining hall weighs on the air like a heavy blanket. Oh, how he hates it when the Emperor comes to dine with them. But at least tomorrow marks the first day of a ten day festival.


	3. Chapter II: Night One of the Dragon Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shang takes time to enjoy the first day of the festivities, and then decides to get some company, in the form of everyone's favourite anarchist: Havik.

The nighttime sky in Outworld is a beautiful thing. Untouched by light pollution nor air pollution, one can practically see all the stars in the sky at night. But not this night. Tonight the sky's dotted with paper lanterns decorated in the green and gold colours of the Dragon King; and the town square and markets are alive, bustling with activity. The palace is active, too, many inhabitants throwing their own small celebrations in the courtyards and gardens. Shang himself mills about one such celebration, quite enjoying the smell of cooking habachi--a traditional Outworld staple for celebrations, similar to hamburgers and hotdogs in Earthrealm's America--and the scenery of groups of friends congregated, lighting lanterns, doing crafts, drinking or just simply talking. In honour of the day, he's brought with him his little jade and gold coloured dragon, named Giaan--an olden dragon name meaning 'king.' Giaan perches on his shoulder, his tail curled around Shang's arm for support as he revels in the sound and noise. Lucky for Shang, Giaan is a very sociable dragon, and it's quite customary for those with pets to either dress them in the image of the Dragon King or to show off their own house-dragons in the same colour of the Dragon King. Shang is proud to flaunt his own; Giaan's particular breed is a rare and expensive one, anyways; and though he may be humble, nights like these he doesn't mind showing off.  
Spotting a familiar face amongst the commotion, Shang makes his way over, bumping the person with his elbow.  
"Baraka! Good to see you here. Enjoying the festivites, eh?"  
The tarkatan gives a laugh, naturally harsh and grating, but it makes Shang grin.  
"Oh, quite! And I see you have brought your own miniature Onaga tonight," Baraka responds, nodding to Giaan, who puffs up his scales proudly at the attention. Shang offers the dragon out to Baraka, and Giaan doesn't waste time in clambering onto Baraka's arm.   
"His name is Giaan, and he's a jaded featherfell. He's still young, though, so his feathers haven't all come in fully," Shang responds, chuckling as Baraka carefully runs a hand down the dragon's back.   
"Jaded featherfell? Expensive," Baraka observes, giving Giaan back to Shang, where the little dragon perches again on his shoulder.  
"Quite. But you know me, always the dragon lover. Couldn't pass him up, he was the only one left and looked so lonely," the sorcerer replies, ruffling Giaan's feathers. Conversation subsides, and Shang ambles along again, exiting the courtyard.   
"I'll pay the townsfolk a visit," He decides. After of course buying some merchandise, some for himself but most to distribute to the poor and homeless. In a little burst of fire, he's gone from the palace grounds and he's in the crowded streets of the town directly outside the main gate of the palace, the town known as Meridian. It's absolutely bustling with activity, and Shang smiles. He walks through the dirt street, pausing to pick up two habachis; one for himself and one for Giaan. Many people stop him to admire Giaan, and the little dragon gladly soaks up all the attention. But finally, he arrives at the bazaar; which is absolutely packed to the brim. Good. He likes seeing it that way. Milling about, he quickly finds a stall which currently is selling both blankets and figurines. Many people buy things in bulk, so to distribute to their groups of friends or family, so each stall is packed with supplies. Shang moves to stand in the line, and a friendly Outworld woman in front of him quickly takes notice of his dragon.  
"Oh!" She exclaims. "How beautiful. A jaded featherfell, yes? He is so pretty, how ever did you afford him?" It's then she finally makes out his face in the dim light, and an embarassed blush rises on her face. "O-Oh, my apologies, Shang Tsung, sir, I did not realize it was you, I-"  
Shang cuts her off with a wave of his hand. "No need. I'm a lot less of an asshole in person, don't worry. You're right though, he is a jaded featherfell. I hadn't planned on getting him but he was the last dragon left in the stand and seemed lonely, luckily I had some coin on me. Ah--you're next."  
Shang motions to the line having progressed, and with an embarassed "thank you," the lady trots up to the stall and makes her perchases. Shang patiently awaits his turn, petting Giaan on the head. When it is his turn, he wastes no time in making his purchases.  
"I'll take twenty of the blankets and ten of the figurines. I figure the kids'll like them," He says, flipping the vendor a large gold piece. "Keep the change, Elder Gods know I don't need it. You're getting good business tonight; I'm glad."  
"Oh, so am I, you have no idea how busy I have been since the last rays of sun," the vendor agrees as he gathers Shang's items. "This is one of the busiest times of the year for us all here, usually you are the most of our income, but this festival certainly is a nice bonus! And, here is your blankets and your figurines." He leans in for a moment, after looking to make sure no one will overhear. "These are not for you, yes? Nor friends. I assume you are heading to Burknshak?"  
Shang nods, keeping his voice low. "You know me all too well, Al."  
He then straightens up and flashes the vendor a smile. "Well! I shall be on my way then. Tell the family I said hello, and tell the kids I said to stay in line and maybe I'll bring Pengsong over again."  
The vendor grins. "I'll see it done."

The town of Burknshak is sparcely populated, the houses simple clay and mud huts. The poor and the homeless help each other when possible, and in a twisted way it's almost heartwarming to see. But as Shang walks through the streets, he knows the general population will be at the town square, holding their own celebration. There isn't many kids in this part of town; most die of sickness. There's ten at the most, and about twenty homeless. He's counted. Entering the town square, he's greeted enthusiastically by several of the peoples there. Each one he gifts a generous gold coin to, and to each child he gives a toy, and to each person without a home, a blanket. All peoples admire Giaan, and the dragon revels in the attention, and Shang gladly accepts plenty of samples of foods. But eventually, people begin to turn in for the night, and Shang supposes he'll do the same. In a similar burst of fire, he's gone from the little town square.

After returning Giaan to his room in the palace, Shang had chosen to, rather than rest, go to another realm.   
Chaosrealm.  
The barren, twisted landscape is familiar to Shang even if it looks different than how it did the last time he visted. Ocean above, ocean below, nothing but an endless abyss permeated by green fog in between each landmass. In the distance Shang can see the red glow of the Tempest, eternally spinning and spitting out that blood red magma-like substance. Although a user of fire and normally able to control such and things related to it, this magma is different in that he hasn't control over it, and Havik had said before vaguely that he'd seen beings made of fire completely incinerated by the magma. Confusing, but this is Chaosrealm. Nothing had to make any rational sense, and frankly, although he'll never admit it aloud, Shang finds the nonsensical madness of the realm a welcome and almost comforting change from the normal rigid order that is the Outworld Empire.   
It isn't long before Shang suddenly feels a pair of arms around his waist and the familiar feeling of bone ticking his neck.  
"Good to see you, little koi," a honey smooth, deep voice purrs, and the bone face nips teasingly at his neck. Shang's face flushes, and he lightly elbows the other man in the side.  
"Really, Havik?"  
The person releases his hold on Shang and comes around to loom in front of him. Havik, a Cleric of Chaos. His blue-white eyes glow wildly as he looms over Shang, but Shang isn't daunted in the slightest. "You always seem to be in just the right place at the right time."  
Havik snickers. "Such is the ways of Chaos, my dear. Now, what brings you to this humble realm? I know you never do things without a purpose."  
"Unlike you..." Shang murmurs. "Well. In Outworld, the first night of the Festival of the Dragon King was today. Er, tonight. The festivities have calmed down for the night, and I wanted a smidgen of company."  
"Ah," Havik drawls knowingly, and in a single movement he's pulled Shang close again, staring down at him unblinkingly, "so what you're saying is you wanted a cuddle buddy. Or a fuck buddy."  
Shang's face flushes more, and he lightly pushes Havik away with a half hearted glare. "No," He insists quickly. "Just. Company."  
Havik cackles, a rather deranged sound, and reaches up to cup Shang's face, running his thumb over the stubble covered cheek. "Cute. Let me guess, you want me to come back to Outworld with you?"  
"Only if you're not busy," Shang responds rhetorically. Havik's never busy.  
Another cackle from Havik. "Ah, but even if I was, anything can wait, if just for you, my dear."  
The cleric removes his hand from Shang's cheek, and with a downward swipe of his hand a rift opens. It's completely black, a rip in the very veil of the realms. Shang mutters something indistinct (causing Havik to snicker rather rackataiously), and steps through the rift, Havik following. For a moment there's nothing but blackness, and a near deathly cold, before suddenly he's in the familiar surroundings of his personal quarters in the Outworld palace.  
"Really, Havik?" Shang says with a roll of his eyes as he turns to look at the cleric. Havik's eyes simply glitter in the dark, and he laughs.   
"But of course! You said festivites were over for the night, so I figured we should simply return here." With that said, in a swift movement Havik's got Shang pinned to the bed, looming over him, and Shang sputters, apparently flustered.  
"H-Havik! I told you I'm not in the mood!"  
Havik snickers, actually quite darkly, before simply curling up on top of Shang. "I know. But you've always been the quite the cuddly one, no matter the circumstances. Now then! You're a human. You need sleep, yes? I'm sure it's been an awfully long day for you. Sleep."  
Shang glares halfheartedly, and rolls his eyes with a sigh. "You know I prefer it when I'm laying on you."  
"Oh, yes. But I know you'll try to get up and not sleep if I don't pin you here," Havik says with an overexaggurated sigh. "So, that in mind. Sleep."  
"Fuck you," Shang mutters.  
"More like me, fucking you," Havik snickers. Shang flicks his forehead.   
"Shut up."  
"You wound me."  
"You want me to sleep or not?"  
"Oh, fine."


	4. i: the festival of the dragon king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shang explains the customs of the festival which honours the fallen emperor onaga

The festival of the Dragon King, Onaga. Such was and is still to this day a customary celebration held mid-summer to honour the fallen former Emperor. Onaga was known well to be a just and wise ruler; although he ruled with an iron fist it was not so chaotic and rigid as Shao Kahn's rule was. Onaga's time was one of prosperity and glory for Outworld. The Dragon King was a ruler who instilled order upon Outworld with fair and just rule. It was by Shao Kahn's traitorous hand that Onaga fell; by poison, no less. Shao Kahn thus took the throne and threw Outworld into the turmoil it has been all too well known for.  
But enough on him--I detest speaking of him more than needed, and I will cover his relation to this festival later in this exerpt.  
Onaga's rule lasted ten thousand years, and to honour such, the festival was designated to last ten days; one for each thousand years. The festival is known well for its flying of the paper lanterns on the first night, fireworks on the second, and from then on various festivities, shows and entertainments. It is also a time in which many of those, like myself, who are the owners of the domesticated dragon species known commonly as house-dragons, will show off their own dragons in the colours of the Dragon King: green and gold.   
As to be expected, the celebrations keep a colour scheme of green, gold, white and red. Green and gold represent the Dragon King himself, while white and red represent his undefeatable army. People will dress themselves in lavish outfits of said colours, to honour Him, and even dress their non-dragon pets in such outfits as well. It is a time of rejoicing, and a time that even those in the Outworld Empire may relax and simply live in the moment. I myself fully encourage those in the Empire to take time off during this festival to have fun and relax. Even I as the Emperor enjoy frequenting the festivities, seeing those formerly homeless now among the commonfolk, seeing their children play with the others.  
But now I must speak again of the former Emperor, Shao Kahn. In his time of rule, while the festival remained much the same as it has under mine, he himself despised it. To see the one he had murdered, held in such a high regard filled him with rage; and he always made certain to remind us of "who our true Emperor [was] is." Although he permitted celebrations within the palace grounds, it was strictly outdoors, and any indoor celebrations were to be done in the privacy of one's personal quarters and not in the halls or the many rooms of the palace.   
I, of course, encourage just the opposite; I enjoy seeing the palace and the inhabitants all dressed up for the occasion. It makes them all quite happy, I'd say, to decorate the palace with things in honour of the Dragon King. I help them decorate, too. What better way to spit on Shao Kahn's legacy than to honour the one he hated so? Well, there is plenty other ways, but I have already spat upon his legacy in those ways as well. 

\- 尚宗。


	5. Chapter III: One Day of Mayhem && One Night of Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Havik accompanies Shang around the festival, and causes mayhem.

The morning sun's first rays hit Shang's eyes, and he groans, throwing an arm over his face to block the sun out. He then rolls onto his side, back to the windows, and feels his face against Havik's arm. Well, at least Havik rolled off him. Still though, he lets out another complanitave groan, finally opening one hazel eye. Havik's dead asleep, near quite literally considering he doesn't need to breathe and doesn't while sleeping, nor does his heart beat while asleep. Shang is still confused about his biology, but he knows he isn't going to get a straight answer him Havik, not now nor ever. He rolls off the bed and stands, combing his fingers through his now messy hair and muttering indistinctly to himself. He lumbers over to a dresser and snatches up a hairbrush, then gently shooes a cat off of the nearby chair so he can sit. Staring into the mirror at his groggy reflection, he begins to brush his hair. Once he's done with that he stands again and stretches with a yawn, hearing his back pop satisfyingly. He ambles over to the dresser again and grabs a change of clothes, rather than his usual gold, red and black colour scheme these are ones he keeps reserved for the festival; although still revealing they are in a gold, white and green colour scheme. He casts a glance at Havik before making his way to the washroom, nudging the door open with his forearm and shutting it quietly behind him. Setting the change of clothes down, he stares into the mirror for a moment before muttering to himself again and stripping himself down. He then turns the water on in the shower and waits for it to warm up before stepping in. He usually showers in the mornings, to help him wake up. He takes a moment to simply let the water flow down onto him before proceeding to wash his hair first, then his body. Once finished, he steps out of the shower and dries himself off, then changes into the revealing and somewhat formfitting green white and gold outfit. Stepping out of the washroom, he notes that Havik's awake now, and the cleric takes a look at him before giving a wolf whistle.   
"Not your usual choice of colours, but damn do you wear it well, little koi."  
Shang rolls his eyes, slipping the last few items on to complete the look and then opening a small drawer in the nightstand next to the bed, revealing various jewelry. Taking the drawer out of the nightstand entirely, he walks over to the desk by the mirror and sits down, setting the drawer down too. Havik watches him quietly as he works on changing out his various piercings from their usual black to a more fitting green or gold.   
"You're goin' all out, huh, Shang? Cute. No clue what the big deal about this festival is, but if it means I get to see you lookin' extra sexy? Count me in," Havik drawls, standing from the bed and using the top of Shang's head as an armrest. "Damn. You showered without me?"  
Shang grumbles, finishing up and standing, pushing Havik's arm off of him. Havik snickers.  
"Well, come on then, if you plan on spending the day with me."  
Havik laughs giddily and clasps his hands together. "Oh, you won't regret a moment of it, sweetheart."  
"I already am," Shang sighs.

The town's just as crowded as last night, if not even moreso, and Shang can certainly tell that Havik's relishing the chaos of it all. He'd already stolen an uncooked habachi from a stand, and Shang cringes to himself as the cleric munches on it as they walk, one arm propped up on Shang's shoulder, the other holding the habachi, making a bloody mess all about his maw.  
"You know, you could make an effort to be less... sloppy," Shang points out, and Havik just guffaws in pure entertainment.   
"Could! But I'm not going to, sorry, dear! What, don't want your royal self to be seen with someone so messy? Psh!"   
Shang rolls his eyes for what feels like the fiftieth time in five minutes.   
"Ooh, what's that?" Havik purrs, gesturing to a stall selling various delicately carved, fragile glass figurines.   
"Nothing that concerns you," Shang says quickly, leading the cleric in another direction, drawing a whine from him.  
"Nothing that concerns me? But what if it does concern me! I'm very concerned about it, you see!" Havik insists, and Shang smiles wryly.  
"I know you are. But there's plenty else to see. There's some hunting games going on, perhaps you'd like to watch those-"  
"Hunting?" Havik cuts him off, eyes glittering. "What kind of hunting? Do I get to eat what I catch? Oh, but surely there is Rules to conform to," He sighs, somewhat melodramatically. "A shame! What else is there?"  
Shang takes a moment to think, watching from the corner of his eye as Havik carelessly tosses the stick that the habachi had been on. With a flick of his finger, Shang uses his magic to pick up the stick and toss it into a trash pit.  
"You shouldn't litter, you know," he lectures, and Havik just scoffs.   
"Litter? Whatever kind of societal conformity that is."  
Shang sighs, he knows well its a lost cause to try and explain to Havik why he shouldn't litter, and instead he simply links arms with the cleric. "I think I know something you'll like. Come on."

Indeed, Havik seems to like what Shang had brought them too, thankfully. Shang's quite relieved actually to see that his companion seems quite fixated on the performance--fire eating. A simple trick anyone could do with enough practice, hell, even Shang can do it, but he's glad Havik's interested in it; it's a little exhausting trying to get a being of chaos to conform to, well, not chaos. Shang is content to sit back and watch the performance, leaning slightly on Havik. His arm makes a nice headrest, and Shang leans his head against the cleric's shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest. Havik's unblinking, eyes a deep shade of teal as he watches the fire-eaters. Either they don't have this in Chaosrealm, Shang thinks, or, more likely, Havik didn't think it was something in other realms.   
When the show comes to an end, Havik immediately turns to Shang and clasps his hands, eyes still that deep teal colour as he stares at Shang. "Can you fire eat?"  
Shang blinks. "Anyone can with practice."  
"Yes, yes, but you, specifically, can you?" Havik insists.  
"I... can," Shang says with slight hesitation. This seems to please Havik as one of his eyes dips to the normal blue, albeit a deep blue.   
"Perhaps someday you will show me."  
"Yeah. Maybe," Shang responds. "Now, come on. We've got plenty of daylight left."

The day had been, frankly, very eventful, but, such is any time when Shang's with Havik. But when night had fallen, Shang had gotten the both of them several habachis (cooked, unfortunately, as Havik complained) and then convinced Havik to follow him back to the palace. However when Shang reaches his quarters, Havik whines.  
"You want to turn in this early?"  
"No, no I don't. Quite the opposite, in fact," Shang snorts. "Just... trust me, okay? Follow me."  
He pushes the door open, and rather than sitting, he makes a beeline for the door to the balcony. Havik follows him out, both eyes a mix of green and purple. The smell of cooking habachis is carried on the wind to them, and Shang nudges Havik.  
"Before you do anything, I want you to watch me carefully, okay?"  
Havik just tilts his head, and before he can get a word out, Shang's moved to clamp the sticks of habachi in between his teeth, and he carefully but gracefully jumps onto the railing of the balcony. Balancing for a moment, he finds a secure hold in some of the more worn down siding of the palace (the fact that he does this often doesn't help it be any less wore down), and in a show of nimble grace, he's scaled the side of the wall, and he peeks down at Havik from the roof.  
"Think you can do that?" He asks, but it comes out more like 'thik u can do at?' due to the sticks of habachi in his mouth.  
Havik just snorts. "Really, little koi, you wound me."   
With those words, Havik easily follows Shang's path up, albeit less gracefully and more like a grizzly bear clambering up a tree. Shang stands, then, and takes the sticks of habachi out of his mouth. "Now then. The fireworks start soon, and they'll be just out--" he points to the horizon, where the fireworks are set off each year, "--there. So let's get ourselves a nice spot."  
He takes Havik by the hand and leads him over the rooftop, the dull reddish rafters seeming to almost glow in the moonlight. Shang hops up a slight step, a different part of the palace, and then looks at Havik. "What do you think?"  
"About?"  
Shang laughs softly. "I mean, do you think here is a good spot to watch the fireworks?"  
"Oh!" Havik snickers. "Well, I'm no expert here, but if you think it is then I'm inclined to agree."  
Shang nods, and sits down, Havik following suit and sitting quite close to him. Shang smiles, and leans on Havik, offering him a habachi, which the cleric simply grabs with his mouth, and eats in one bite, stick and all. Like a snake. He curls an arm around Shang's waist, and Shang blushes when he feels the cleric rest his hand on his thigh. Flirty bastard. Shang himself takes time in eating his habachi, and Havik grabs another, but, surprisingly, doesn't eat it yet.   
"The fireworks are about to begin," Shang murmurs excitedly, and he hears a low, rumbling purr from Havik.  
Indeed, the fireworks do start soon, in the signature colours of green and gold, but there's red and white, too. Red and white for the dragon king's army, Shang knows.   
He watches the fireworks with a smile, but hisses in surprise when he feels Havik nip at his neck, his blue-white eyes glowing wildly.   
"Havik-"   
"Shhh."  
Shang rolls his eyes but does quiet, continuing to watch the fireworks. Havik isn't subtle in leaving several more bites and nips on Shang's neck, and eventually Shang speaks up again.  
"You know. You're biting me more than the damn food--it's probably cold by now. Cold habachi isn't that good."  
"Hell if I care," Havik rumbles with a snicker, yet again downing the habachi in one bite, stick and all. He then moves his head back to Shang, and Shang braces for another bite at his neck, but instead he's met with the cleric pressing a 'kiss' to his temple (the best he can, anyway, for having no lips). Hos face flushes, and he glances over at Havik, who looks smug.  
"Didn't expect that, did you," Havik drawls, tracing the various places on Shang's neck he'd bit. "Expected another bite."  
"Maybe," Shang admits. "But I should know by now to never really expect to be able to predict what you're gonna do."  
"Damn right."  
For some few minutes after they sit in silence, split only by the sound of the fireworks bursting in the sky.  
"I love you," Shang says suddenly. It's quiet, but able to be heard over the din of the fireworks. Havik, he notes, just snickers, but one eye does become purple.  
"Yeah, I know you do, little koi. I know you do."

**Author's Note:**

> note: habachi is basically a cooked bird on a stick


End file.
